


The Scion

by HawthorneWhisperer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:56:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5108654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/pseuds/HawthorneWhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin was the most powerful witch the Sky People had ever birthed. Even the Sky Queen paled in comparison to her daughter.</p><p> </p><p>Rumors of her powers had been just that— rumors— until she was captured by the Mountain a year after that afternoon by the bay.  Her consort had burned down a Grounder village in revenge, convinced they had taken her, and by the time Clarke clawed her way out of the belly of the Mountain, Finn had already been captured by the Grounder Queen and sentenced to die.</p><p> </p><p>The Grounder Queen granted her the boon of a goodbye in recognition of Clarke’s status as Scion of a powerful clan, but when Clarke walked away from his stake, Finn sagged against the ropes, the air sucked from his lungs with her goodbye kiss.</p><p> </p><p>Power like her mother’s came around once a generation, but that?  Power like that came around once in a millennium.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scion

**Author's Note:**

> It's a pretty light M, to be honest.

_“Just focus, O,” Bellamy suggested.  “You’ve got this.”_

_Octavia twisted her face into a scowl.  “I am focusing; it’s not working.”  She took his hand and he felt a mute flicker of her power course through him, but only a light breeze erupted from her outstretched hands.  “Maybe it’s your fault.  Maybe you’re not a good anchor,” she said, dropping his hand and wiping her forehead._

_The sky above them was clear and cloudless which should have been a good sign, except Octavia had been trying to conjure a storm for the past hour with no luck._

_Bellamy bit back a retort because he knew it wasn’t his fault.  His sister was a tremendously powerful witch._

_She just wasn’t a Sky Witch._

_He’d known since she was an infant, bundled in his arms on a cold December morning.  He hours walking her around their small garden, trying to quiet her cries while his mother worked, and that morning her chubby arm got loose from the blankets and she reached toward a nearby branch._

_Lush, crimson roses exploded from the dormant bush the moment her fingers brushed the leaves, and that was when Bellamy knew.  His mother’s anxiety during her pregnancy suddenly made sense, and her insistence that Octavia be fully covered whenever he took her outside looked less like paranoia about the chill and more like well-earned worry._

_Octavia was a Grounder Witch, and his mother was a traitor to her coven._

_Octavia sank to the ground and buried her face in her hands.  “It’s pointless, Bell.  I don’t have any powers.”_

_“That’s not true,” he said before he could stop himself.  “You’re just not using the right ones.”_

_Octavia looked at him quizzically.  “What do you mean, the right ones?”_

_He motioned to the grass beneath her.  “You feel it, don’t you?  Mom’s a Sky Witch but you’re...you’re not.  You know, Octavia.  You have to have already guessed.”_

_Skeptically, Octavia ran her fingers through the soft grass.  She closed her eyes and laid a fingertip on an errant twig._

_Purple and white flowers sprang from nowhere, turning the clearing in the middle of the forest into a lilac-strewn meadow in seconds.  Octavia opened her eyes and laughed with delight.  Bellamy couldn’t help but smile back, and for the next half hour he watched happily as she darted around the forest, pushing flowers into bloom wherever she went.  Revealing her powers was dangerous, but he couldn’t watch her fail anymore and think it was her fault.  “Think I have the rest of their powers too?” she asked, forcing a handful of white, lacy flowers into his hands._

_“Probably best not to find out,” he said.  “I think the Sky Queen might notice if there’s an earthquake coming from our territory.”_

_“Listen to your brother, child,” a silky, dangerous voice said from behind them.  Octavia blanched and Bellamy dropped her flowers, fear overtaking joy in a heartbeat as Shumway emerged into the clearing.  “I think people might be very upset to discover we have a grounder bitch in our midst.”_

  


***

Clarke Griffin was the most powerful witch the Sky People had ever birthed. Even the Sky Queen paled in comparison to her daughter.

 

Rumors of her powers had been just that— rumors— until she was captured by the Mountain a year after that afternoon by the bay.  Her consort had burned down a Grounder village in revenge, convinced they had taken her and by the time Clarke clawed her way out of the belly of the Mountain, Finn had already been captured by the Grounder Queen and sentenced to die.

 

The Grounder Queen granted her the boon of a goodbye in recognition of Clarke’s status as Scion of a powerful clan, but when Clarke walked away from his stake, Finn sagged against the ropes, the air sucked from his lungs with her goodbye kiss.

 

Power like her mother’s came around once a generation, but that?  Power like that came around once in a millennium.

 

Bellamy would never forget her face as she left Finn behind— broken but strong, grief-stricken but resolved.  He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her as she walked blank-eyed through the crowd who had gathered to watch Finn’s execution, the Grounders for vengeance and the Sky People to ensure that the goddess could claim his soul.

 

Clarke stumbled when she approached him, and even though she was nothing to him— less than nothing, considering it was her mother who had his burned at the stake when her treason was discovered— his hand shot out and he caught her.  His fingers wrapped around her bicep and he felt her power surge through him, hot and bright like a bolt of lightning.  Her eyes darted to his and for a moment, he felt rooted to the spot.  But then she straightened and the moment passed.

  


He should have suspected it then.

 

***

 

The second time Bellamy encountered the Scion she was again lost in grief.   The whole coven had been in a panic when the Sky Queen’s consort had disappeared and rumors ran rampant, pointing to both the Grounders and the mysterious Mountain clan as culprits.  The Sky People were on the verge of calling a war council when the Queen found him— collapsed in the woods, no sign of either of the other clans on his body.

 

 _An accident_ , their queen declared, _and a tragedy that we could not witness his passing for the goddess_.  She demanded he be buried immediately, but her Scion was nowhere to be found.

 

Bellamy was the one who discovered Clarke, quite by accident, standing on a rocky outcropping overlooking the bay.  It was only mid afternoon but it seemed as though night was falling, and falling fast as dark storm clouds bubbling on the horizon.  He was out for a walk— a coincidence, as he would never have deliberately gone looking for her, or so he told himself — when he saw Clarke silhouetted against the churning grey water of the bay.

 

Wind kicked up, sending leaves skittering across the earth, and she raised her hands above her head.  Sparks flew from her fingertips and Bellamy abruptly realized the cause of the oncoming storm.  With a swift movement she flung her hands down and a waterspout erupted in the bay, swirling and shrieking and heading straight toward them.  He shouted her name, but the roar of the wind drowned out his voice.  He ran towards her, fighting against the gales of wind, shouting himself hoarse, but just before the waterspout reached their shore Clarke crumpled to the ground, spent.  Just like that the clouds dissipated and the sun broke free once more, birds chirping in the now-still air.

 

Bellamy knelt next to her and brushed the hair from her face.  “Clarke?” he whispered, but she didn’t wake.  He’d only seen the Sleep once before, when his mother collapsed after birthing Octavia.  Clarke could be out for hours, if not days, after expending such power, so he carefully fit his arms underneath her and hefted her up.  It was a long walk back to the Coven House but he managed, even as the aftermath of her power sparked through his veins, making him stagger and almost fall several times.

 

But he refused to acknowledge his suspicion even then.

 

***

 

Bellamy tangled his fingers with Clarke’s and pinned them to the cave wall, damp and cold, such a contrast to the warmth of her skin.  She arched her neck to kiss him again, her lips sealing over his and her leg curling around his hip.  She gasped sharply when he pressed against her entrance, and he let go of her hands to hoist her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist.  Firelight licked her bare skin and painted her in every shade of gold, from the pale shimmer of her skin to the deep, burnished shine of her hair; a  sun goddess in his arms.  He spun them and walked back to the pile of furs on  the ground, laying her down gently.  Every place they touched seemed to ratchet the power they shared higher and higher, sending it coursing through his veins with every brush of her fingertips.  She twisted them until she was on top, her eyes burning, and she slowly let herself sink down on him, enveloping him in her warmth.  Bellamy grazed his hands up her thighs and let them settle on the curve of her waist.  He couldn’t look away from her, not with her eyes so hungry for him, and she slipped her fingers to the downy patch of gold between her legs and stroked herself until she was shuddering above him, her walls tightening around him so perfectly it made him forget the magic that was flowing through him.  

 

Then it was his turn to roll them over, pushing back inside of her while her hair spilled out over the furs, hitching her leg higher over his back.  Between the way she was looking at him, the way their bodies molded together and the way her power kept surging through him in endless waves it took only a few thrusts before he was coming so hard he thought he might fall into the Sleep himself.

  


Bellamy opened his eyes to find himself back in his dank, empty cabin— no cave, no roaring bonfire, and more importantly, no Clarke.  The fire in his hearth had gone out some time during the night and all that was left of his incredibly vivid dream was the memory of her power singing in his veins and an uncomfortably hard erection.  He scrubbed a hand across his face in frustration and debated handling the situation himself, but then his door banged open and in barged Raven.

 

“The Queen and her Scion have commanded your presence,” she announced.  “Well, mostly the Scion.  The Queen has her doubts about your usefulness.”  Raven looked at him and raised an eyebrow pointedly.  “I would offer to help you with your, ah, problem, but they want you in the Coven House immediately.”

 

Bellamy made a rude gesture that Raven returned on her way out the door, and he dressed quickly and headed down the path.  The Coven House was three times the size of the tiny, isolated cabin he’d shared with his mother and sister, with elaborate carvings in the eaves.  Candles burned in every corner and hints of sage and rosemary greeted him as he ducked inside.   He found Clarke standing to the left of her mother in the Sanctum, both of them facing the Grounder Queen.

 

He was taken aback by Lexa’s presence and even more so by the way Clarke seemed at ease with the arrangement.  “Blake,” Abigail intoned, and he knelt in deference until his queen bid him to rise.  “My Scion thinks you could be of use to us.”

 

“She does?” he asked as politely as he could, given that Clarke appeared to be avoiding his eyes.  For a brief moment she did, but her blue eyes darted away and a light pink blush stained her cheeks.

 

“I do.  We need—” Clarke swallowed hard.  “— we need someone to infiltrate Mount Weather.”

 

“And you chose me.”

 

“Your sister speaks highly of you,” the Grounder Queen interjected. “She and Lincoln place great trust in you.”

 

Abigail shot her a look and the Grounder Queen fell silent.  “Lexa has received word that the Mountain clan has...made a discovery.  About their powers,” his queen said, still not explaining why they had chosen him.

 

Bellamy looked at the women in front of him, confused.  “They’re...spirit witches, yes?”  He didn’t know much about the Mountain clan, aside from their long standing enmity with the Grounders.  They worshiped a dark goddess and communed with the dead from their caves near the shore, but tended to leave the Sky People alone.  Their capture of Clarke was an accident, they claimed, and held that they would have returned her to her mother of their own free will had she not panicked and escaped on her own.  Clarke confirmed they had treated her as a guest, but there was something in her story that had left Bellamy uneasy.   _It was the men who took her, not the women._  Witches did not use men to fight their battles— it simply wasn’t their way.  Those with Anchors— true anchors, not just a shared bloodline— sometimes used them during war, but it was highly unusual for the men of a clan to risk war with such a reckless action as kidnapping the Scion of a clan.

 

“Of a sort,” Lexa said.  “One of my people fought her way out from the heart of their territory, but she witnessed their new ritual.  The men have discovered that if they slay a witch, they can...consume her essence.”  Bellamy frowned and Lexa hastened to explain.  “Her spirit.  With her death, the men gain her powers for a time.  They wish for more, and are planning an attack on both our clans.”

 

“And you need me?”

 

The Sky Queen nodded.  “We need someone inside to free Lexa’s people.  They’re kept in cages to prevent them from touching the earth and unleashing their powers, but if they are all freed, they could bring down the mountain.”

 

“And where do we come into this?” Bellamy asked.  “Or where do I come in, for that matter?  Why not send one of hers?”  His sister may have been accepted as a Grounder, but Bellamy still viewed their clan with suspicion.

 

Clarke cleared her throat awkwardly.  “We need I can communicate with.  While they are inside.”  This time, she met his gaze and Bellamy knew he wasn’t the only one who had that dream.

 

“My consort is gone, and Lexa has never chosen an Anchor,” the Sky Queen said.  “My daughter...suspects she would be able to reach you.”  Her distaste for the plan was clear in the way she pursed her lips and frowned at him, as though it had been his idea and not her daughter’s.

 

“You want to spirit walk?” he asked Clarke.  Few witches were strong enough to even try, and it could only work between a witch and her Anchor.  It meant she suspected their bond as well, but wondering and testing the theory were two separate things, because the bond between a witch and her Anchor was not to be taken lightly. It meant being tied to Clarke for the rest of his life, feeling everything she felt, being a conduit for her power and keeping her from burning out in times of duress.  Most men could anchor for witches they shared a bloodline with, but being a true Anchor, especially for someone as powerful as the Scion of a clan, was incredibly rare.

 

He was terrified.

 

“It’s our best option.”  Clarke swallowed hard.  Spirit walking was dangerous for those who attempted, and to do so on such a thin presumption was breathtakingly daring. It also meant risking his life.

 

Bellamy looked her straight in the eye so she would know he knew what was at stake, and what her success would mean for them both.  “I’m yours to command, princess.”

  


***

 

Bellamy had been curled into an alcove inside the mountain for three days with no word.  If it wasn’t for the kindness of a young woman named Maya who had stumbled across him and smuggled him food every evening, he would have had starved.  He tried not to think about her kindness too much, because Clarke and Lexa’s plan would likely lead to her destruction.

 

A noise around the corner made him tense, but it was only Maya.  “No word from your queen?” she asked, as she did every night.  

 

“Not yet,” Bellamy said, gratefully accepting her packet of food and tearing in.

 

“You should know— I think they know something is happening.  There’s been movement near the prisoners.”

 

Bellamy sat up straight.  “They know?”  He’d managed to sneak into the prisoner’s cages the day before, where a Grounder witch had promised to make sure her people understood when Bellamy got the word to put their plan in motion.  If the Mountain clan suspected the Sky People and Grounders were allying against them, they would need to move quickly.  Bellamy was trapped in limbo, not knowing if Clarke had attempted the spirit walk and failed.  He wondered how long he should stay in the mountain; if leaving was a sign of practicality or lost faith in his Scion.   _She could have died while trying to spirit walk_ , he thought.   _Weaker witches have_.  But Clarke was no ordinary witch, so he stayed put.

 

“I’m not sure,” Maya admitted.  “But they’re sending the men out tonight, I think.  Whatever is happening, it’s happening soon.  They have— they’ve been stockpiling torches.”  Bellamy’s heart dropped into his stomach, because if the Mountain Men encircled their army and set the forest ablaze, it would be a massacre.  The women of his clan could call for rain but conjuring enough rain to dampen a forest fire would take time; time they wouldn’t have as the flames drew closer and closer.  “I’ll be back if I find anything out,” Maya said and left him alone in the darkness again.

 

 _Bellamy?_ He whipped his head around, looking for Clarke, before he realized— she’d done it.  She could speak to him and only him across great distances.

 

He was her Anchor.

 

“I’m here,” he whispered, his heart pounding.

 

 _Bellamy, you have to get out,_ Clarke whispered.  He couldn’t see her, but her presence was palpable.  He could feel her panic and something darker, dragging against his heart.   _The alliance is broken and the Grounders are gone.  Get out, Bellamy.  You don’t have much time._

 

“Gone?”

 

 _Bellamy, go.  Please_ , Clarke begged.

 

“There are good people here,” he replied.  “Let me warn them, then I’ll go.”

 

 _There’s no time.  Get out, now.  I have to end this,_ her voice murmured in his ear, and he felt their connection break, but her desperation lingered.

 

He wanted to go find Maya and warn her, but every inch of his body screamed for him to run to Clarke instead.  He started dodging through the tunnels, running as fast as he could.   _I have to end this_ echoed in his head, over and over again, and he knew with terrible clarity what she was going to do.

 

The wind was already howling by the time he found the surface and starting sprinting along the shore, rounding the bay even as his lungs burned for air.  Rain splattered his face and thunder rumbled in the distance, broken by the occasional spear of lightning.  The waves were growing higher and he spotted her, standing on the same rocky outcropping as that afternoon years ago.  Clouds veiled the moon and swallowed the stars and still he was running, wondering if the fear eating at his innards was his or hers, wondering if he would make it in time or if she was going to burn herself out.

 

That was always a danger with magic, but few witches ever called on their powers deeply enough for it to matter.  But Bellamy knew with a certainty that frightened him that Clarke would not stop until either she or the Mountain was destroyed for good.  And despite the fact that his encounters with her numbered one conversation and one painfully vivid dream, the thought of the world without her suddenly seemed unbearable.

 

“Clarke!” he roared as he approached her, standing towards the bay, her arms raised to the sky.  The water in the bay was receding now, pulling back towards the open water of the ocean, building into a wave taller than the Mountain itself.  She faltered for a moment, and he knew she was still weakened from the spirit walk.  “Clarke!” he yelled again, and she looked back at him, beautiful and devastated.  

 

“Stay back,” she warned, but they both knew it was a pointless warning.  He was her Anchor, and he would not leave her to die.  Whatever burdens she had to carry by destroying the Mountain, he would carry them with her.  

 

He reached out to grab her hand and spared one last thought for Maya, hoping she was in a higher part of the tunnels, and then the blinding whiteness of Clarke’s power surged through him.  He absorbed the rage and sadness flowing through her, and did his best to keep her heart from breaking when she let down her hand and the tidal wave crashed into the caves at the foot of the mountain, filling them with a sudden rush of water.  She sent another wave, and then another, and then another, until there was no way anyone had survived the onslaught.  Her power flowed through him like a riptide, tearing at his insides and leaving jagged edges behind.  He braced himself and held on, willing the goddess to give her strength until the deed was done.

 

Abruptly, Clarke’s power waned and she sagged against him.  The wind died and the clouds rolled back, stars emerging one by one.  Bellamy wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her up.  “Stay with me,” he murmured, taking a shaky step forward.  Her power had drained him too, but if she fell into the Sleep before he got them to shelter they would spend the night on the damp forest floor, leaving them vulnerable to attack.  “Clarke, please,” he pleaded.  “Stay awake.  It’s just a little farther.”

 

She staggered against him and together they stumbled through the forest, her power sparking at strange times as she grew weaker and lost control.  Bellamy could just see his sister’s cottage when his vision went black and he collapsed, Clarke falling heavily at his side.  

 

He came to when Octavia and Lincoln were carrying them inside, his sister mumbling under her breath.  “Of course he goes and Anchors himself to the goddess-damned Scion,” she grumbled.  “Put him on the floor; I’ll get princess into the bed,” she instructed Lincoln.

 

“No,” Clarke muttered.  “Not— not alone.”

 

If Bellamy had the strength to smile, he would have at the exasperated look that crossed his sister’s face.  “Fine,” Octavia scowled, and Lincoln helped Bellamy to the bed beside Clarke.  She curled into him and he buried his nose in her hair, letting the exhaustion win.

  
  
  


Octavia was watching him apprehensively when he finally woke, but somehow, he already knew.  “She’s gone,” he said, a statement and not a question.

 

“Left early this morning,” Octavia confirmed.  “I tried to get her to stay,” she said unhappily.  “She wouldn’t.”

 

Every muscle in his body ached, but he could still feel Clarke’s presence, faded and pulled, like a thread stretched thin over a long distance.  “She’ll be back.  When she’s ready,” he rasped.

 

Octavia clucked her tongue and Bellamy slipped back into unconsciousness, sad but sure.

 

***

 

It was an early spring day when Bellamy felt a warm breeze ruffle his hair, Clarke’s presence filling his soul.  He could feel her, hopeful but hesitant, cracked but whole.

 

He turned, and smiled.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of an experiment in world-building for me. Happy Halloween!


End file.
